Fructus Arboris Venenato
by angelsrushin
Summary: Takes place before the events of CoB. In the war between Valentine and the Clave, Valentine wins. Complete Summary inside.
1. Abduction

FRUCTUS ARBORIS VENENATO

Fruit of the poisoned tree

RATED M / VIOLENCE, ADULT LANGUAGE, SEXUAL SITUATIONS, AND PROMINENT INCEST / JONATHAN AND CLARY FANFICTION

COMPLETE SUMMARY - Takes place before the events of City of Bones. Clary never met Jace, therefore never found out about the shadow world. In the war between Valentine and the Clave, Valentine wins, and with a demon army at his command and all of the Mortal Instruments at hand, every shadowhunter must succumb to his will or be executed. The Circle is once more, and in a world of war, it's kill or be killed. Clary is thrust into the shadow world as she and her mother are abducted by her father, self proclaimed King of Idris and are taken to their home country by force. Taken from the only home she had ever known, Clary grows to despise her father.. and her brother. But perhaps over time, she'll grow to love her newfound family... or not.

*For the intents and purposes of this story, the Gard will be more of a palace than a meeting hall*

* * *

CHAPTER ONE - ABDUCTION

Clary knew from the moment she got home that something was wrong. The front door was completely torn off its hinges, pathetically lying on the floor of the family room. Nearly every piece of furniture was moved out of its place, the books on the shelves were littered on the wooden floor, the canvases with her mother's paintings were ripped and torn apart, shattered remains of vases and glass and mirrors lying haphazardly on the floor. Angry tears formed in her eyes. A break in.

"Mom?" She spoke hesitantly, her voice barely a whisper as she made her way through their tiny abode, careful not to step on any sharp shards. The kitchen was in similar conditions as the living room, pots and pans scattered across the linoleum. Suddenly, a hand covered her mouth and a large arm enclosed her, her arms trapped, leaving her defenseless against her attacker. Clary thrashed and kicked, but all her attempts of escape were futile as she was dragged away into her mother's room. Her screams were muffled by the hand, and she knew no one would come to her rescue. Upon entering the room, she noticed her mother was bound by a thick rope, duct tape covering her mouth, her gaze frantic as she watched Clary brought in. Also in the room, a man covered in black clothing and strange tattoos held bindings in his hands. He came up to her and helped her captor tie her and gag her so she wouldn't scream, letting her sit on the floor next to her mother. For robbers and possible killing rapists, they were surprisingly gentle and careful as they tied her and set her down. Clary looked at her mother for answers, but found none; only a strange courage she had never seen in her mother's eyes before.

"We were given strict orders not to hurt either of you, but to bring you by any means necessary. It'd be in your best interest to come with us willingly." Her captor said, and only then did she notice that he wore the same dark clothing and had the same tattoos that the other did. Jocelyn nodded, but made a motion indicating she wanted the tape on her mouth gone. Their captors looked at each other, pondering whether it would be a wise idea or not to let her speak. A few moments of silent conversation passed, and one of them moved forward to remove the tape from her mouth. Clary watched as her mother calmly licked her lips before speaking.

"Who has sent you?" She asked, her voice steady as she faced the men.

"Valentine."

The color from Jocelyn's face drained, "But he's been dead for sixteen years."

The man shook his head, "Valentine Morgenstern is very much alive, and has acquired each of the Mortal Instruments. He took down the Clave, killed each of its members and everyone else who opposed of him. He's made it his mission to purify the Blood, and rid the world of demons and downworlders. But you aren't a fool to his plans, Jocelyn Morgenstern. You knew this would happen, one way or another, sixteen years ago or now. You were only foolish to believe he was dead in the first place."

Clary and her mother were taken to what Clary could only describe as a time warp - a blue rippling thing that was reminiscent of water. The men, on either side of them, had them held by their upper arms as they all walked into the time warp. For a moment, Clary felt weightless- and then it was gone. The smell of blood and decay hit her hard, and she opened her eyes to a morbid sight. All around her, there were people on the streets cleaning. Scrubbing the pavement, washing away ash, or dragging away human corpses to pile at the very center of the street. If there hadn't been duct tape covering her mouth, she would've wretched. The smell was overwhelming, and worse was the scene. She was pushed, herded along with her mother and forced to walk on, staring at the people who stopped their work to watch them pass by, defeat written over their face and pity as they saw them tied and hauled forward. Whispers began, but Clary only caught a few words of it. Morgenstern women, Jocelyn and Valentine's wife and daughter being the most prominent. Clary glared accusingly at her mother, who knew what was going on and didn't even bother to tell her why this was happening. If what the men said and the whispers of the people were true, her mother was wife of this man named Valentine, and she was his daughter. The thought was ridiculous, because her father had died in battle long ago and her mother never remarried, and to Clary's knowledge the only man she had ever married was her father. Jocelyn ignores Clary's glares, and addressed their captors.

"Where are you taking us?" demanded Jocelyn, turning her head slightly to give the men a glare of her own.

"To the Gard, Valentine's current residence since the war. You and your daughter will be living there from now and Jonathan will be pleased to have the both of you home."

Jocelyn paled, and for the first time since their abduction, genuinely looked afraid. "Jonathan?" Her voice shook.

"Aren't you excited to see your son again? He's grown into quite the young man, and looks just like his father."

Her mother did not respond, and Clary has had just about enough. She twists out of her captor's grasp, her foot coming up to kick his shins. But just as soon as it began, it ended as he grabbed a hold of her again and squeezed her tightly enough to bruise her. She silently screamed under the tape, a thousand questions running through her head, questions that no one would answer. Her mother shouted profanities, but they fell on deaf ears as he grabbed Clary by the hair and pulled at it roughly, his breath was hot against her ear as he sneered, "Next time you try to escape, I'll do worse than that, girl."

For the second time today, tears formed in her eyes, only this time she let them fall.

After a few minutes of walking, they reached the center of the city where a tall structure resembling a castle stood proudly. Clary and Jocelyn were pushed not too gently up the stone stairs leading to the grand entrance. The entrance was too large for a door- instead, there was a marble angel on either side of it, crossing their swords at the center. The foyer itself, however, was a disaster. Banners that once hung proudly were torn from its place, the once white walls covered in ash. The floors were slippery with blood, and a large crystal chandelier that had fallen from its place hanging from the ceiling at the center of it all, thousands of shattered glass crystals littering nearly every inch of the floor. There were more people cleaning up here; using brooms for the glass, mops for the blood, and paint for the ash. Clary had never felt more disoriented in her life. In just an hour, she was abducted from her home and realized that her mother never told her any of this shadow crap, or Valentine Morgenstern, or the Mortal Instruments. Even in their current situation, Clary couldn't help but feel betrayed over her mother keeping this from her. She wondered whether or not they'll ever return home. Would Simon realize they were kidnapped and call the police? But what good would the police do against these dangerous people? Clary shook her head as if to clear her thoughts. She didn't want Simon involved in this. If this was her fate, so be it.

They enter a particularly large throne room, complete with ornate walls and polished marble floors; the only room in the Gard that was in a much better condition than the rest of it. On the throne at the very end of the room, sits the man she assumes is Valentine himself, with a younger version of himself standing at his side. Jocelyn doesn't take his eyes off of the young Valentine, and Clary gathers that it is Jonathan, Valentine's son. Both have nearly similar features: white blond hair, prominent cheekbones and lean, muscular structures. Clary found that their only difference was Jonathan's hollow onyx eyes. He catches her staring, and smirks at her. She quickly looks away, trying to convince herself that did not just happen. As Valentine watches them enter, he stands, a grin settling upon his face. He raises his arms as if he were to embrace them, and said:

"My wife.. My daughter."

Clary waits for her mother to deny it. She doesn't. All her life, she has known that her father was a deceased soldier who had died a couple of months after she was born. Now, not only to find that the man she had grown up to believe her father wasn't, but to find that her father was very much alive - and very much evil.

"I thought you were dead."

"I thought you loved me," he retorted, the smile now gone from his face, a grimace in its place. "You left me. You betrayed me."

Jocelyn's response was a whisper. "You left me no choice."

"You could've stayed!" He shouted, walking towards them. "You could've stayed, but you didn't!" He grabbed Jocelyn by the chin, forcing her to look up at him. "Instead, you went off with the downworlder." He spat the word, as if it was a curse. Then, his face softened, his hand at Jocelyn's chin suddenly gentle. "Why didn't you stay?"

Clary watched a tear roll down her mother's cheek as she whispered, "You changed."

Valentine wiped away his wife's tear, lovingly, shaking his head. "None of it matters now. You're here, and that's all that matters."

Jocelyn's eyes harden, moving away her face from his grasp. "We are not staying."

Valentine smiles cruelly. "You have no choice in the matter, carissime."

He then shifted his attention to Clary, placing a hand on her shoulder. Clary flinches away, but his hold is hard and unrelenting. He ignores Jocelyn's protest, gently peeling off the tape from Clary's mouth. His touch is soft as he takes in her appearance, her skin, her eyes, her hair. His gaze is intimidating and she looks anywhere but his eyes. "My daughter.. we finally meet."

Him addressing her as his daughter made the situation all too real, and she felt a pang of betrayal in her heart over her mother's lies.

"What is your name?"

"Clarissa Adele Fray."

"Well.." His fingers found her chin just like he had her mother's, "You are Clarissa Adele Morgenstern now. I am your father, Valentine Morgenstern, and this is your new home. You and your mother will stay here with me and Jonathan, your brother, and we will be a family. Do you understand?"

She hesitantly nodded, shamelessly fearing his wrath had she told him otherwise.

Valentine smiled pleasantly. "Good."

Jocelyn spoke up. "If you think we are staying here, you really must be out of your mind." Clary watched as Valentine's face contorted from contentment to anger. His nostril flared as he turned to her mother and slapped her with the back of his hand with enough force to knock her to the ground. Clary slightly whimpered as she watched her mother fall, a searing hatred beginning to settle inside her over the man who claimed to be her father.

"You will learn that it is not wise to go against me. Do not forget I am the same man who dismembered the Clave and killed all of those who got in my way. Do not defy me, or you will not be safe off the consequences. I am confident that you will come to see it my way again some day." He gestured to the captors - Clary hadn't noticed they were still around - to take them. "Take them to their designated rooms."

Clary watched as one man hauled her mother to her feet, pushing her forward to the hall on the right. There were two halls, one on either side of the room. The other man pushed Clary to the hall on the left, and she looked back to spare one last glance at her mother. Clary didn't know how or when, but she would get them both out of this. She swore it.

* * *

Author's note: This chapter was pretty boring, but necessary. I tried to describe Alicante as best as I could but to be honest, I rushed through City of Glass and cared more about the dialogue than the actual scenery. Jonathan/Clary interaction will come in the next few chapters. Reviews are welcomed and so is constructive criticism, but if you're just going to bitch about how much you don't like Jonathan and Clary as a ship, don't bother. Other than that, the more you review, the more I write. :P Let me know if I need to clear up anything, though I'll be explaining the war and everything in the next chapter.


	2. Seven Days and Seven Nights

CHAPTER 2 - SEVEN DAYS AND SEVEN NIGHTS

The room she was taken to was spacious and luxuriously decorated, complete with a King sized bed big enough to sleep four people comfortably. There were two doors on either side of it, one to a ridiculously large bathroom with a separate shower and bathtub, and thankfully, a toilet for her basic human needs. The other door led to an even larger room, a closet filled with clothes and shoes in her size. Clary grimaced, wondering how Valentine had gotten a hold of her measurements, but hadn't even known her name. She assumed that he had asked to be polite, but Clary knew there was nothing polite or even remotely sane about the man named Valentine. The look in his eyes when her mother defied him was frightening and unsettled her, promising herself to never anger the man who ordered their abduction. Clary was still not completely sure what was going on, and did not understand half of the things that were said. She couldn't help but hope that this was all a bad dream, and she would wake up in her bed back in New York. She thought about Simon and Luke. What would they do when they realized both her and her mother were gone? Would they look for them? Call the police? But what good would they do against a mad tyrant with a demon army? Demons. Monsters. All the stories were true.

She didn't believe it at first. It had been said, but it was difficult to believe in something you had been told all your life was not real. It was only when she actually saw them - the demons. They were there, outside of her window. Clary noticed that before the sun set, the people would scurry into their homes and deadbolt their doors. At the rise of the moon, demons flooded the streets, killing anyone unlucky enough to have been caught by the night. Demons of all shapes and sizes, disgustingly grotesque and mutilated, or surprisingly beautiful and deadly. Clary had begun to resent her mother from keeping this world of evil from her, but honestly couldn't blame her for trying. She could've lived her whole life and not know of any of it, and she would've been happy. But now knowing Valentine, she knew he would have eventually found them.

When she was first put in the room, Clary tried to look for any means of escape. Both the window and the door were locked. The only time her door opened was the bring her regular meals, and to take the plates away when she was done. For the past seven days and seven nights, she was sealed away in the room, not knowing when or if she would ever be let out. Her only company was a sketchbook with blank pages and pencils. Clary had found them on the desk in the room, a note attached to it that read: 'I hope my assumptions are correct that you are an artist just like your mother. - Father' Glaring at the word father, she crumpled up the note into a little ball and flushed it down the toilet in childish anger. She knew he was trying to get to her, trying to get her to love him. After the way he treated her mother, even if he was her father, she would never accept him into her life willingly. He was just as much of a monster as the ones outside her window, the monsters he controlled.

The days passed slowly. She made good use of the sketchbook, drawing several portraits of Simon and Luke, but mostly of her mother. Clary resembled her mother in her hair and her eyes, but she came to terms that she wasn't, and probably will never be as beautiful as her. Clary was small in stature and slim whereas she was tall and curvaceous. Her mother had long crimson waves, and she had carrot curls. Clary was often mistaken for younger than she is, and she didn't really have any other friends except for Simon. She and her mother didn't get along very well because Jocelyn tended to be overprotective, and now Clary finally understood the reason why. She had been trying to keep her away from all of this, and Clary found herself wishing that she had succeeded. She wanted her normal life back, she wanted to go to school and watch anime with Simon and sneak out to parties like a normal girl her age. But as her time wore on in this room, in this ancient castle, in this city of glass, she knew deep in her heart that her life would never be normal again.

* * *

On the eighth morning, a knock sounded on her door. The maid who brought her meals never knocked, so it had to be someone else. She hoped for her mother, that she had escaped and have come to find her so they would finally leave this place, but she knew better than to expect the best.

Bracing herself for her father or her brother, she stood from her place on the bed and sarcastically said, "I can't exactly open the door for you." And prayed there would be no retribution for her insolence.

The locked clicked and the knob turned, and behind the opening door was Valentine. She noticed he wore nearly the same clothing every day, the same hooded cloak that trailed behind him as he walked, the same heavy combat boots that strangely made no sound, and as always, dressed in black fully from head to toe. On his face, he wore a pleasant smile along with a bruise on his cheekbone that could only have been product of her mother's violence, the only person brave enough to stand up and defy Valentine Morgenstern.

He entered the room with a commanding presence; silently closing the door behind him, and walked around, inspecting the slight changes his daughter had made to her room. On the walls by her bed, she had taped drawings of Jocelyn and with slight irritation, he noticed drawings of the downworlder Lucian Graymark, as well as a boy Clarrisa's age that Valentine hoped was only a friend. It wouldn't be any good to have his daughter be in love with a mundane when the purity of the Blood was on the line. He had come to explain the shadow world to his daughter now that Jocelyn has proved to be impenetrable, he hoped that Clary would be more open to him. Jocelyn would eventually succumb one way or another, it was only a slight annoyance that she hasn't done so immediately. But Valentine knew that if he continued to keep Clary locked in a room, she would never grow to love him.

"Clarissa... I know you are confused, since you were raised as a mundane. It's time for you to know the truth."

Clary shrugged, torn between wanting to know and not having Valentine explain it to her. "I know about the demons and the shadowhunters, but it seems to me that there hasn't been any hunting lately." Unconsciously, she looked at the window, thinking about the demons she had seen every night. "Is it your doing?"

"Yes," he responded confidently, lightly touching a portrait of her mother, running his fingers down the drawn cheek. "We, shadowhunters, are half human, half angel. Our blood is that of the Angel Raziel, who created the first shadowhunter centuries ago. We were created for one sole purpose: to kill evil. Demons, mostly. But there are other evils, such as the downworlders. The deceptive fae, the blood thirsty vampires, the repulsive warlocks, and the monstrous werewolves. We were at war with them once, but then The Accords were put in place. The Accords were peace negotiations signed between the Downworlders and the Clave. The Accords acted as amendments to the Covenant agreed to be taken as the law of the land by all of the Shadow World, a treaty that ordained how Shadowhunters and Downworlders interacted with mundanes-those who are completely human-and one another, as well as each group's rights, responsibilities, and restrictions; stating that as long as the rules were not broken, they can live in peace without bother and may have provided each other help when the need ever rose.

"But even though we did keep our side of The Accords, the downworlders had not, because they are just as corrupt as the demons that spawned them. I have always known this since my younger years, and so did your mother, Lucian Graymark, and a few other of our familiars. I formed the Circle, I recruited our peers when we went to school here, in Alicante. The year The Accords were to be signed, we infiltrated the Gard, and tried to overthrow the Clave and kill the downworlders present. But your mother, who had been deceived by the turned downworlder Lucian Greymark, had already informed them of our plan, and even though we managed to rid the world of a few, some of our brothers were killed as well. Because of your mother's treachery, she left me no choice than to stage my death, as well as your brother Jonathan's, and we lived in exile until now. I succeeded in overthrowing the Clave with the Mortal Instruments, the instruments that were given to us by Raziel. The Forsaken you see are controlled by me, and no harm will come to those who stand by me. Eventually as time wears on, those who oppose of me will eventually come to terms that I am the authority now, and those who are against me will burn.

"You are my daughter, Clarissa. A shadowhunter. As such, you will begin training in the next few days. Jonathan will be your instructor, and he will teach you everything you need to know to survive. We have enemies, and now you are a target. You must learn how to protect yourself. Will you accept?"

As if he gave her much of a choice. Regardless, she saw the opportunity of freedom ahead, and nodded her head slowly, but surely, in agreement.

"I accept, father."

* * *

Author's Note: This pathetic excuse for a chapter took me an entire day to write. It wasn't as exciting as I wish it would've been, but it was necessary to explain what exactly happened. I hope everyone understands now. More details will come in to play when we go into Jonathan's POV which is (drumroll please) next chapter! If you liked it, review, if you didn't, review anyways! But remember I am a human being and I have sensitive feelings, lol. Reviews make me write faster, and considering the next chapter will be a doozy, I need all the motivation I can get. Until next time!


	3. A Garden Locked Is My Sister

CHAPTER THREE - A GARDEN LOCKED IS MY SISTER

* * *

Jonathan knew from a very young age that he was not a shadowhunter. Even as a child brought up as one, he was vicious and selfish and didn't particularly care for any life but his own and his father's. When spring came in Idris and the hares reproduced into the hundreds, he remembered catching them and would use a knife to cut an incision on its side to watch it bleed to death instead of mercifully snapping its neck. As time passed, his regard for his father's life had changed - he had grown to resent the man and everything he stood for. He was through going along with his father's pathetic obsession with the destruction of every downworlder and his hypocrisy of keeping the shadowhunter bloodline pure, considering the genetic alteration experiments he made on both his son and daughter. Jonathan planned on killing him soon, but at the right place and the right time, with the support of the right people. No, Jonathan was not a shadowhunter - He was a demon. The blood of Lillith was vigorous and overpowered his lineage enough to make him a monster, but not enough to take away the fact that he was a man. When he first saw her, his instinct told him to claim her as his own, to fuck her against every surface of the Gard in 500 different positions. His sister came in bound like a slave, a slight thing with a messy head of crimson curls, porcelain skin, and tear streaked cheeks. She looked like a doll, and he couldn't wait to play with her. Of course, someone who is as nefarious as he would want to fuck his sister. To kiss her, to touch her, to sheath himself in her, to make her bleed. The demon caught her studying him, appraising him with wide emerald eyes, and he smirked. A flush of red stained her cheeks as she looked down, shielding her face from his view. At this, he frowned. Never should she hide from him. His sister was brought closer, and at this proximity he was able to study her more intently. She was petite and had the fairest skin, albeit dotted with freckles, perfectly smooth and seemingly soft as well. He watched his father remove the tape from her mouth, and was pleased to see a full pink pout underneath. Her purity was all but written on her face, and Jonathan decided he wanted to be the one to corrupt her, to see the light of innocence steadily depart her eyes over time, only leaving behind the signs of his wickedness. He would harden her, make her strong enough for a place by his side. Suddenly, Jonathan found himself realizing that there was another life he wanted to protect besides his own: his sister's.

_ Soror mea_, he thought. _You will be mine._

-xxx-

Once his father was done terrorizing Jocelyn and sent both women to their rooms, Jonathan discretely followed the man who was taking Clarissa to her room and made a note of its coordinates for later. As the man locked the door to prevent her escape and walked down the corridor to his own quarters, the demon quietly stalked him and cornered him. He didn't put up much of a fight at all, but no one ever could against him. Jonathan made sure to hit him hard enough in the spine to immobilize him from the neck down and used a dagger to cut off his tongue, quieting any screams. He usually enjoyed hearing his victims beg for mercy, but he didn't want his father to know of his indiscretions. The more he thought about it, he decided to let the man slowly choke on his own blood rather than cut him all up. It would be too quick. His sister's captor was a hare, and Jonathan enjoyed watching hares bleed. He smiled, stepping back to relish his ministrations. A similar fate would befall on anyone else that touched what was his.

-xxx-

After quickly disposing the body of his victim, he made his way to Jocelyn Fairchild's residence. It wasn't difficult to find her, her screams and curses could be heard from from every corner in the Gard. His father had been trying to "calm her down" for the past few hours, and Jonathan could see that his efforts were in vain. Valentine had to tie her down to the bed post to prevent her from further destroying her room in anger. When Jonathan entered, Jocelyn looked down, ashamed that even now her instincts denied that he was her son. Her heart had never acknowledged it when he was a baby, and now more so that he was a man. His eyes were cruel and unrelenting, and Jocelyn knew he was not here to reunite with his long lost mother.

"Why are you here?" She asked, looking away.

His smile was wide, but not pleasant. "Can I not visit my dearest mother, who has come to take her place in a family she never wanted?"

"I loved Valentine, and I loved you-"

"_Quiet_," Jonathan demanded, his smile now gone, replaced by his hatred for her. "I am not an ignorant boy, you cannot coddle me with sweet lies and expect me to forgive you for abandoning me. To be frank, father's infatuation of you is the only reason you are here. If it were up to me, I'd feed you to the demons that roam in the night. I recommend you started obeying him, or he just might take my suggestions into consideration." He smiled again, turning on his heels and began to exit out the door, but before he closed it he said, "I'll tell Clarissa you said hello."

His laughs echoed in the hallway as he locked the door, delighted by the sobs that could be heard from the other side.

-xxx-

The only time that the door of her prison opened was when the maid brought her meals and took back the used dishes. The door opened six times a day: twice in the morning, once in the afternoon, and another two in the evening. Clary only ever looked upon this maid once out of curiosity, but she ended up wishing she hadn't. She had an appalling scar that ran from her forehead to her chin, a tell tale sign of the war that had transpired not too long ago. The wound was fresh and jagged, several needles etched into it to hold her face together. After the sight, Clary couldn't stomach the food that was brought to her and did not eat that night. When the maid returned to pick up her dish, she avoided looking at her again, but failed. At seeing her untouched food, the maid smiled apologetically and left.

It brought Clary to tears.

Her father was a monster, and her brother just as well. They needed to escape soon, and she began to formulate a plan how. The desk where the maid placed her food was passed her bed. She would pretend to sleep, and just as the maid would set the food down Clary would make a run for the door, locking the maid in and then attempt to find her mother, which would be the most challenging part of it. She had no idea where her mother was, except that she was taken to the opposite hallway from hers, so she would let that lead her and from there she would check every room if she had to. They _had_ to leave. Once found, her mother would know what to do next. She was probably waiting for Clary to make a move. There was no time to ponder over the possibility of getting caught, or of what they would do if they did.

When the morning came, Clary hid under the covers so the maid wouldn't notice her in full outerwear. Her heart pounded loudly as the door opened, and a figure emerged and crossed her room, gently placing the dish on the table.

It was now or never.

Clary flipped the covers off and ran to the door. It was so _close_, she went to grab the knob to pull the door open and-

She was grabbed by the shoulders and roughly pushed back against the very door she was trying to exit. Her head banged hard against the wood, disorienting her for a few moments before looking up.

Black clothes, a masculine chin, a wicked grin, defined cheekbones, and blond hair falling over bottomless onyx eyes.

_Definitely not the maid._

"Hasn't anyone ever told you that it's not wise to bite the hand that feeds you?" Her brother said, his large hands tightening around her tiny shoulders.

Clary winced at the contact, "I didn't know that hand would be you."

Jonathan laughed, his fingers gently rubbing her shoulders. She tried to maneuver out of his hold, but he was strong and she couldn't get away.

"No, I suppose you wouldn't."

"Will you tell father of my attempt to escape?" She asked, the fear of getting caught finally seeping in. Would the chain her up? Would they tie her to a chair? Would they put her in a cell? Her heart started to speed up again, and Clary was worried he would hear it. She forced herself to calm down, closing her eyes and taking deep breaths. If she were to be punished, she would do so with dignity and not like the frightened little girl she was when she first got here. She would be brave and strong, like her mother.

Jonathan seemed ponder it before finally deciding. "I won't tell him, but I expect a boon in return."

Clary narrowed her eyes at her brother. "What could you possibly want from me? I have nothing to offer you."

He villainously smirked, "A kiss on the lips, and nothing less."

She is _revolted_. Not only is he a merciless monster, but he wants his own sister to kiss him. There's only one answer to his request.

"Only when hell freezes over!"

His smile never faltered. "That day might come sooner than you think."

Clary sneered, _"Never." _

He shrugged nonchalantly and let her go. "Have it your way. I guess I'm just going to have to tell father of your betrayal. It's a shame, really. He was hoping he wouldn't have to chain you up just like your mother, thought you believed his cause to be just, and were willing to cooperate with us but.. The world is full of disappointment," he smirked again, moving to open the door and leave, "Now that I think of it, I'd love to see you in chains..."

She paled, the prospect of being that helpless again scared her. Clary would never be able to escape this place. In a sudden burst of adrenaline and poor judgement, Clary grabbed him by the arm and pulled him towards her. She looked up at him, at his mouth, and instead of thinking about him as her brother, she thought about him as just another attractive boy. Taking his face in her hands and standing on the tips of her toes, she closed her eyes and met her lips with his. His mouth was like soft velvet against hers, and just when she was about to pull away, his hands found the back of her neck and the small of her back, thrusting her against him. Jonathan kissed her hard, his lips relentless and rigorous on hers. With his tempting lips and his toned body sensuously pressed against her softness, it was easy to forget that he was her brother, and that he was evil and manipulative and that she hated him. Clary had never kissed a boy before, and the feeling of it made her never want to stop. Heat pooled in her tummy, and she grew needy for more. She ran her hands up his chest, feeling the power of every muscle underneath her fingers, and brought them to entwine in his colorless hair, pulling at his locks viciously as he coaxed her mouth to open, his tongue invading her wet cavern and prodding at her own tongue with his. Clary gave in, their tongues fighting a battle that could never be won. Jonathan pushed her against the wall without releasing her lips, his legs moving to stand between hers, his thigh brushing against her center, a delicious friction that made Clary want to scream for more of it. But she couldn't have more of it, because he was her brother.

It was like a bucket of ice cold water had been thrown over her head.

_ Brother._

Her fingers left his hair and her hands braced themselves on his chest to push him away, but he was greedy and continued to kiss her, his tongue caressing hers. With no other option, Clary took his bottom lip between her teeth and bit down as hard as she could, the unfamiliar cooper taste of his blood on her tongue. Jonathan slowly released her then, running his thumb across his lip and staring down at the blood that stained it. She shrunk in fear of him striking her, but he licked the blood off his thumb and grinned at her. He had that naughty glint in his eyes again, and Clary suspected he was planning something _evil_.

"I hope I see that fierceness in training tomorrow, _sister_." Jonathan opened the door, the grin never falling off his face as he looked back at her, closing and locking Clary in her room.

-xxx-

Walking down the hallway, he whistled a happy tune.

_ A garden locked is my sister, my bride; a garden locked, a fountain sealed._

* * *

A/N: Well, this monster is 2,296 words and took me about a week to write because of school and my procrastinating muse. Forgive me for any mistakes, I only read over it once and I probably missed some. So, in this chapter, we get a look inside the mind of Jonathan. i had a lot of difficulty writing him - I had to rewrite the whole entire first part of this chapter because I felt like he was out of character. I hope he still isn't, and that you all like as I made him to be. I imagine you all enjoyed the kiss as much as I did. I was silently screaming as I wrote it. It seems like Clary isn't as innocent as she seems, hm? Don't forget to review! Tell me what you think, whether it's good or bad, I want to know! Thank you to all those who have reviewed, I am honored to entertain you, lol. To answer a question, The Lightwoods are probably not going to make an appearance in this story, but I know one fabulous warlock who might! ^.^ Until next time.


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